What The Cat Dragged In [Private]

[Dark]

It had been three days, and Minh couldn’t help but start to worry the thugs had rattled something vital loose. Her unexpected guest hadn’t stirred since she’d deposited him on the couch; he’d barely made a noise when she dragged him up the four flights of stairs to the apartment. He hadn’t been very healthy to begin with, and he probably did need the sleep, but he also needed food; what little broth she had managed to spoon down his throat could only keep his body going for so long. And his breathing—shallow, rasping, too fast—had her worried. She hadn’t slept more than a few hours since she’d brought him to the apartment, too afraid that he’d drop dead while she wasn’t looking.

She sagged into the chair she’d dragged next to the couch, lightly running a paw over the fading bruises on his chest, mottled yellow and purple against too pale skin. Not for the first time, her gaze drifted towards his heart and the rank emblazoned there.

He’d had a book on rank in his pack, a book that told him he shouldn’t exist, that he was something less than a person. Minh couldn’t help but wonder what that would do to a person, and why he kept something like that.

Reluctantly, her eyes slid shut. She supposed she would find out.

[Dark]

He woke in increments, feeling brittle and stretched too thin. He twitched his limbs experimentally and was pleased to discover that besides some soreness in his ribs and a tender spot at the back of his head there wasn’t anything overly amiss. He was hungry, though.

He opened his eyes, judging by the light it was early morning. Whatever he was laying on was soft and there was a blanket draped over him. He kicked it off, and tried to figure out how he had gotten there. He wasn’t certain how many days had passed since the door had opened; he had followed the main road, avoiding other travelers except when he stole from them. The city had been too loud, too busy, and he had faded into the woodwork as best he could. The two men he had run into had been unexpected and unwelcome. He didn’t remember much after they’d slammed him against the wall.

His things were on the coffee table, and his hand closed around the knife hilt with something close to relief. Something shifted to his right and he froze. His turned his head slowly, amber eyes focusing on the black and teal feline curled up in the chair there. She was waking up.

[Dark]

Minh was struggling rather futility to fight off the last remnants of sleep, feeling almost worse for the short nap she had taken. Her body was tired, but she couldn’t afford to sleep any longer. Her guest might have kicked off during the night, and if that was the case she needed to start thinking up ways to get rid of the body before it started to stink up the place.

She stretched, rubbing the grit from her eye with one paw. The fur along her spine stood up; she was being watched. She lowered her arm slowly, eyes locking with intent amber. He was sitting on the very edge of the couch like he was planning to take flight at any moment, knife cradled loosely in one hand. Minh hadn’t ever thought past him waking up.

She straightened in the chair slowly and hoped the movement didn’t startle him.

[Dark]

He eyed the female carefully as she woke, ready to either flee or slit her throat depending on what the situation demanded. He didn’t relax when she didn’t immediately make a move towards him. His surroundings were unfamiliar, and offered little comfort to him; a thread-bare couch, a window leaking weak morning light, and boxes stacked in every direction. The feline was of much greater interest, but he was having difficulty coming up with a solution regarding her continued presence. She didn’t seem like a threat, but that could always change.

He knew it would be easier in the long-run to dispose of her quickly, but he was looking for answers and there was always the possibility that maybe she had the answers he was looking for. He struggled to find the words he needed to communicate, but the memories were buried and all but forgotten. He gnashed his teeth in frustration.

[Dark]

Minh had never been a still person--she was constantly thinking, moving, doing--but she didn’t move now; she was loath to even breathe. He seemed frustrated, twitchy, and very liable to use his knife if anything startled him. Minh was very, very glad no one else was home. Of course, if Mnem had been home, maybe the thought of a knife in the gut wouldn’t have been so daunting. Mnem would know what to do.

When he didn’t immediately go for her throat, she forced herself to relax. It wasn’t easy.

“I’m Minh.” It was hard to keep her voice from slipping into the high-pitched yowl that was the norm when she was under stress; this was not the time for hysterics. “They hit you pretty hard on the head; I brought you back to my apartment to bandage you up.” She barely checked the impulse to ask his name. In her experience, twitchy people didn’t like questions.